


Item #58

by eeyore9990



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Circle Jerk, F/M, M/M, No soggy biscuits, watch the world burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers are fighting AGAIN. On Agent Coulson's "ideas for teambuilding" list, they're up to #58. Hopefully this will be the one that works...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Item #58

SHIELD Agent Phil Coulson stared down at the report on his desk, his pen poised over it as he reviewed it line by line. The junior agent who'd completed the report had given it to him earlier in the day with the expectation of it passing immediately to Director Fury. Phil snorted softly to himself as he caught _yet another_ incorrect usage of the word they're. Crossing it out, he blocked off a square of space in the margins and wrote, _The word is THEIR, Agent Nicholson. If you cannot distinguish the difference between their, they're and there, please see me at your earliest convenience. I will ensure that you're enrolled in basic grammar courses immediately._

No sooner had Phil punctuated his editorial note than there came a loud crashing sound followed by the roar of an angry god. Glancing up from his place at the desk, he watched with a bland expression as Thor staggered to a standing position, shook his head to clear it, and then charged through the hole in the wall. 

The previously sound-proof wall.

Phil reached into his inner right breast pocket and pulled out an army green, standard issue government memo pad and calmly flipped it open. Dabbing his thumb into a container of pink fingertip moistener, he paged through his memo pad until he reached the last page on which there was writing. Eyes automatically reading the first line, he pursed his lips as he saw the dark black line drawn through the item at the top of the page.

~~56\. Team sports. Softball/bowling/basketball.~~

He read the next item and shook his head at his own folly. 

57\. Let them knock each other around a bit. That will work the excess of testosterone from them.

Opening the top desk drawer, he pulled out a black pen—the pen he edited reports with was purple because red had recently been deemed too antagonistic and Phil was conscientious—and drew a ruler-straight line through item fifty-seven. The next item gave him pause, but only for a moment. Closing his memo pad, he returned it to the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and pushed back from the desk.

Standing, he took a moment to straighten his cuffs before going to the door, keying in his access code, and pulling it open. He ignored the easier access provided by the gaping hole in the wall because walking through someone else's hole just seemed uncouth.

"Uh oh, boys, daddy's come to ground us." 

Phil spared a few seconds to level his gaze on Tony Stark before turning his head to address the room at large. "Gentlemen," he said, his tone as always calm and measured, "I would like to propose an activity which won't require an expenditure of time and taxpayer money on rebuilding this structure."

Agent Romanov raised her hand, and Phil nodded in her direction, taking a half-step back to allow her the floor before folding his hands in front of himself. 

"Is this item fifty-eight?" she asked, her eyes glinting with malicious humor.

Phil took a moment to mentally note that he needed to be more cautious around this woman before inclining his head in the affirmative. "That would be correct."

"All right, then," Romanov said and gracefully unfolded herself from the couch. "I believe that sauna is calling my name." Without missing a beat, she walked from the room—using Thor's hole—and threw a last comment over her shoulder. "And no, Stark, I don't need company."

Stark, whose mouth had already opened with an offer, closed it and grinned unrepentantly. "I'll wear her down eventually," he said, his hands moving restlessly along the back of the couch upon which he was sitting.

Phil looked around the room, for the first time wondering exactly which of the fragmented team had been involved in fisticuffs with Thor. Dr Banner was sitting in the lotus position on top of the bar, practicing his breathing techniques. Stark was slouching into the corner of one of the leather sofas that dominated the room, looking bored enough to worry Phil. He made another mental note to insert a Trojan virus into JARVIS, just to give Stark something to absorb his attention for a few hours.

As Phil's gaze skipped across the room, Clint looked up from where he was checking the tension on his bowstring just in time to catch Phil's eye and glanced pointedly into the far corner of the room, where Captain Rogers was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. 

A defensive position if ever there was one.

Phil took in the nearly-healed bruise that must have been amazing when it formed, the lingering crust of blood on the Captain's otherwise perfect mouth, and the hands that were still balled into fists. Glancing toward the spot in the other corner where Thor was swinging his hammer with what appeared to be dark intent, Phil sighed.

"Gentlemen, if you would all please put down your weapons and congregate in the lounging area, I would appreciate it." 

Dr Banner immediately slipped off the bar, Clint secured his bow and arrows, and Tony stayed put. Thor and the Captain, however, remained in their respective corners. 

"Very well, then," Phil said, his voice turning steely. "Captain Rogers! Front and center!" 

The Captain snapped to attention and was walking toward Phil before the order had a chance to aurally dissipate. 

"Thor. If you're afraid of … confrontation … you may feel free to adjourn to your chambers."

It was almost sad how well reverse psychology worked on the Aesir.

When everyone was gathered in closer, Phil unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid it off, folding it over once before placing it on the arm of the sofa closest to him. "I had assumed," he began, his fingers going to his tie and loosening it, "that your antipathy toward one another would wane with time." Rolling the tie up, he tucked it into the left pocket of his trousers. "I regret that my assumption was not more accurate."

Stark sat forward, his eyebrows twin arches on his forehead. "Are you… giving us a strip tease? If so, I need to go downstairs and grab my tip jar."

Ignoring Stark, Phil unbuckled his belt. "I based my assumption upon the premise that there was simply too much testosterone running through each of you. It appears that's where my fault in logic lay. It was not an over abundance of testosterone but _ego_ which has led us to this point." 

Undoing his trousers completely, Phil tugged his shirt free of them and pushed them to mid-thigh… along with his standard white briefs.

"Since you're all so determined to prove who has the largest dick… or set of balls, I propose an end to all this in-fighting. Pull them out, gentlemen."

The scattered protests were drowned out by Stark's eager shout. "Fuck yeah! Finally. It's been forever since I've participated in a good old-fashioned circle jerk!"

Thor shared a skeptical glance with Captain Rogers—wary though it was—before stepping forward. "This circle jerk you speak of. It is customary in your realm?"

"Big guy, we seriously have to get you into a college frat party some day. You will _love_ it. Are we doing the soggy biscuit, or just a straight jerk?"

Phil considered this, but the object was not to see which person had the best control. It was simply to see who truly had the bigger penis so they could all focus on more important issues. Such as saving the planet.

"I'm really not comfortable with this—" Captain Rogers began, his eyes flickering around the room, obviously hoping for support.

"Rogers," Phil barked, "present your equipment for inspection."

Biting his lip as his cheeks flooded with color, Rogers fumbled open his khakis and pulled his still-limp penis from his leopard-print boxer-briefs. Phil raised one eyebrow. Those were obviously a gift from Stark.

Looking around the loose circle of men, Phil noted with some pleasure that the rest of the Avenger Initiative had already withdrawn their genitalia. Stark had even started up a good stroke already.

Thor smirked around at them all and boomed out a hearty laugh. "It is as I suspected. Mortals cannot command the same girth as gods."

"A flaccid penis is no basis for comparison," Phil said quickly, to stave off any further bruising of egos. 

"Make your member grow, then, human. We will see if you tiny Midgardians can compare to the glory and majesty of Asgard."

From beside him, Phil heard Clint mutter, "Please let someone be bigger than that asshole."

The next few moments were quiet but for the sound of skin sliding against skin. Then, just when Phil thought it might be safe to have everyone stop and compare, a loud beeping sound interrupted his train of thought. Glancing toward the source of the noise, Phil saw Dr Banner shrug with a look of apology. 

"Sorry, guys. Can't go further than this; I don't think it'd be fair to Hulk out on you all at this stage."

Phil nodded toward Dr Banner, but glanced down to note that, while respectable, Dr Banner wasn't going to win this particular contest. "Feel free to make use of the sparring room if you'd like to finish," he offered.

"Thank you," Dr Banner said before pulling his baggy sweatpants up over his hips and striding from the room as normally as possible.

"Gentlemen," he said after the door closed quietly behind Dr Banner, "I believe it's time to measure ourselves. JARVIS?"

"Yes, Agent Coulson?" The measured tones of Stark's AI flowed through the room.

"Could you supply us with penile length and width measurements for each of the men in this room?"

"Of course, sir. Thor Odinson measures eight-point-two-five inches in length with a circumference of five-point-three inches. Tony Stark—"

"Remember who signs your paycheck, JARVIS!" Stark shouted.

"—measures eight-point-two-seven inches in length—"

"Ha! Looks like us mere mortals _can_ beat you gods!"

"—with a circumference of five inches exactly."

Thor, having deflated at the announcement of Stark's length, puffed up again. "Girth, boy. It is all about girth."

JARVIS continued reciting statistics without pause. "Captain Rogers measures eight inches with a circumference of six-point-three inches—"

"JARVIS, back up. Did you say he's over six inches in circumference?" Stark asked, looking at Captain Rogers with new-found respect.

"Yes, sir. If I may continue."

"No, no, wait a minute." Stark hitched up his jeans and waddled over to where the Captain was standing, using both hands in an attempt at preserving his modesty. "Can I hold it?"

Shock rounded the Captain's eyes and parted his lips, but to Phil's astonishment, his hands began to drop from in front of him. "I… guess?"

Stark's lips stretched into a wide grin, and he leaned forward, whispering something into Captain Roger's ear. The Captain cleared his throat, and his entire face became red with embarrassment, but he nodded. Turning to the remaining members of the group, Stark said, "Boys, Cap and I'll be in my room. _Sparring._ Don't call us, we'll call you." And, reaching down and wrapping a hand around the Captain's erection, he led them both from the room—through the hole in the wall.

Phil pursed his lips and looked at Thor, wondering exactly what to expect from their resident demigod. Thor threw his head back and bellowed at the ceiling, "Heimdall! I require companionship!"

Within seconds the room lit with lightning and thunder roared around them as a cyclone touched down in the center of the room. When the storm cleared, a beautiful young woman stood there, blinking around in surprise. As soon as she saw Thor, however, she tossed her head and let out a challenging laugh. 

"Come, then, Thunderer," she said, gesturing to herself. "If you be man enough, your sword may yet find a sheath in me." Sliding a long sword from a sheath at her back, the woman swung it in a one-handed grip. "Or perhaps," she said, the light of battle in her eyes, "my sword will find its sheath."

"Ah, Sif, you do know how to pleasure a man." Thor barreled forward, avoiding the swing of the Lady Sif's sword, and took her to the ground in a bone-cracking tackle. Sif rolled them both until she was on top and brought her sword down perilously close to Thor's head, cutting off a chunk of his hair.

"JARVIS, unless Agent Barton has any objections, I believe we're done here." Phil threw out one arm to push Clint back when the dueling couple on the floor tumbled too close for comfort.

"Very good, sir, though it might be useful to note that the length and circumference of Director Fury when erect is nine-point-six inches by six-point-five inches."

"So noted," Phil murmured, head tilting as he watched Sif gain the upper hand.

"Well." Clint's hand continued to move slowly along his length. "Looks like everyone else has paired up nicely. I'm going to go find Natasha. Wanna join us?" Clint neatly sidestepped Thor's flailing legs as he turned to Phil with a raised eyebrow.

Phil considered this but shook his head. "No, I still have a few reports to finish before I can clock out for the night."

He waited until Clint left before taking care of his erection with a few quick tugs he was all but invisible to the pair currently fucking wildly enough to create several thousand dollars worth of damage. Cleaning up at the wet bar, he tucked in his shirt, buttoned, zipped, and buckled his belt. His tie went on in seconds, and a splash of water helped tame one hank of hair that had somehow separated itself from his neat style. Checking himself in the mirror behind the bar, he smoothed out a place where his shirt had bunched oddly then walked across the room to retrieve his suit jacket. He slid into it and buttoned back up before asking JARVIS to order the materials to repair the wall. A glance at Thor and Sif had him adding a floor crew to that order.

Phil took a moment to organize his thoughts before returning to the work that had been interrupted. He walked back to the outer room and sat down at his desk. He withdrew his trusty note pad once more and, flipping through to item fifty-eight, he allowed himself a gusty sigh of relief before circling the item in question. He was very glad to know that he didn't have to resort to the last item on his list.

59\. Let the world burn. If these are the best super heroes we can find, the world doesn't deserve to survive.

Reaching into his desk drawer again, he grabbed the bottle of white out and carefully dabbed it over that item, erasing it completely. 

The world was still worth saving.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink meme and tripperfunster, who deserves all the awesome things. Slightly changed from the original form which was posted at the meme and my Livejournal.


End file.
